


Turkey Run

by incorrectbatfam



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: This Thanksgiving, Robin and Superboy take on their most important mission yet.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	Turkey Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadWolfTen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfTen/gifts), [GeekintheCorner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekintheCorner/gifts).



> Yes, this is basically a hyper-condensed Chicken Run plot.

“Look at him, walking around like he owns the place. Absolutely disgusting.”

“He _does_ own the place, Dami. We’re on a farm and that’s the farmer.”

“Not just any farmer. A _turkey_ farmer. The lowest of lowlife animal murderers who profit this time of year because of America’s colonialist-capitalist excuse of a holiday.”

“I understood less than half of that—”

“ _Shh!_ ” Damian pressed a finger to Jon’s lips. “Here he comes. Watch closely.”

Heavy boots squelched through the soft mud. The lanky, pitchfork-wielding farmer ambled toward the gated chain link fence, keys jangling from his waistband, an unlit cigar hanging from his yellowed teeth as he bragged to the birds how they were headed for the market. Crouched behind the feed barrels, Damian and Jon were just out of the man’s periphery. 

Damian pressed a finger to his comm. “Alpha Squad, status report.”

A purr, two scratches, and a peck gave him the answer. 

“Good. Everyone remember the plan?”

Another purr, another two scratches, and another peck.

“Excellent. Beta Squad is in position.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jon asked. “What if our parents notice that we’re gone?”

“They won’t,” Damian said. “I paid the Clone to court Drake in front of the adults every chance he gets. Plus, Bat-Hound is at home base. He will alert us of any trouble.”

“He would’ve done it for free.”

“I realize that now.” Damian pressed his comm. “Initiating Phase One of Operation: Feathered Biped.” He turned to Jon. “You’re up.”

Jon handed Damian the cape and Superboy sweatshirt before smearing dirt on his face and arms. To finish off the look, Damian ruffled Jon’s hair, making it stick up in all directions.

Damian nodded. “Go. The fate of hundreds rests in your adorableness.”

He held his breath as Jon approached the man and stuck out his bottom lip.

“P-please help me, sir! Th-this bad criminal took me from m-my family a-and I’ve been w-walking for three days!” 

Large droplets cascaded down his cheeks, cutting through the dirt. Jon pulled his clothes closer, shivering. A true master of deception this Kryptonian was. Damian made a mental note to ask Jon for lessons. 

The farmer’s expression softened. “Oh, I’m so sorry, son. C’mere, I’ll get’cha fixed up. Ya hungry? I got some food inside.”

“A-are you sure, sir? I-I don’t wanna get your floor dirty. I-I should stay out here.” Jon traced his toe in the mud, gazing at the ground. 

“Ain’t no problem,” the farmer said, “but if ya really wanna stay outside, I can’t stop ya. Just wait here, I’ll bring it out to ya ‘n we’ll figure out what to do.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

The door closed behind the man. 

Jon said, “The chicken is in the coop. I repeat, the chicken is in the coop.”

“Copy that,” said Damian. “Pennyworth, you’re up. Initiating Phase Two.”

From the pitch-black shroud of the coal bags, Alfred the Cat hopped onto a crate, then a planter, leaving not so much as a single shedded hair—Damian expected as much from his top feline agent. 

Alfred soundlessly hit the front steps. He extended a single claw and slid it into the rusty brass lock.

Through his binoculars, Damian watched intently for the signal.

Alfred got back on all fours. Jon dried his fake tears.

“That’s the signal,” Damian said. “Krypto, now!”

Krypto rolled out from under the spruce tree, green needles sticking out from his white fur as though he was a hedgehog. 

He shook them off and dug his hind paw in the dirt as Jon joined him.

Damian never believed people looked like their pets, but seeing Jon and Krypto laser-cut a hole through the fence together made him reconsider that notion. Alfred hopped onto Damian’s shoulder as the fence section fell, its clang muffled by the mud drift it landed on.

Jon signaled to Damian; Damian signaled to Jerry.

“Go forth, my loyal fowl, and rally your kind for a greater cause!”

Jerry plodded through the turkey-sized hole. Damian hoisted him onto the roof of the shortest coop. The other turkeys snapped their head toward the brighter-feathered newcomer.

“ _Gobble gobble. Gobble. Gobble gobble gobble gobble. SQUAWK!_ ”

The turkeys gathered around, whispering amongst themselves.

Damian blinked away the tear in his eye. “Have you ever heard more majestic words?”

Jon shook his head and blew his nose on the corner of his cape.

Jerry cocked his head toward Damian. Meanwhile, Jon and Krypto tugged a hayride cart to the fence, with Titus at the front like a ship’s captain at the helm.

Titus barked twice and the turkeys formed a single file line. Damian and Jon cupped their hands and formed a stepping stone between the gray ground and wooden platform. Through the kevlar gloves, the turkeys’ talons tickled. As Damian secured the birds, Jon attached Krypto to the front with horse reins. Alfred hopped from Damian’s shoulder onto Jon’s.

The farmer burst from the door.

“Now!” Damian shouted.

“Mush, Krypto, mush!” said Jon.

“Mush?” Damian asked.

Jon scooped Jerry under one arm and Damian under the other. “It’s a dogsledding thing. I learned it from the Balto story at school.”

As they took to the skies, leaving a furious farmer in their dust, Damian asked, “Dogsledding?”

“I’ll show you when we get home,” Jon said. “By the way, where are we taking these turkeys? The farm’s not big enough.”

“The Wayne Animal Sanctuary.”

“There’s a Wayne Animal Sanctuary?”

Damian tapped his phone. 

“There is now.”

They touched down in a grassy field and the dogs began ushering the turkeys out. 

Before them laid rolling hills dotted with orange-capped trees. A river cut through, and it was so clear the boys could see their reflections in it. A perfume of leaves and perennials hung in the cold air, just like their breaths.

“It’s beautiful,” Jon breathed.

Damian patted the top of a turkey’s head. “They will be safe from harm here.”

Jon took the reigns off Krypto. “Should we go home now?”

“I suppose,” Damian said. “Though, I would prefer to spend my evening here.”

“We can always come back later,” Jon said. “The turkeys will still be here. They’re safe, like you said.”

“Alright.” Damian climbed into Jon’s arms and together, they lifted off the ground. “So, Kent, tell me more about this ‘dogsledding’ thing.”


End file.
